


Appreciating O

by MaxWrite



Series: The Telepathy Series [3]
Category: British Actor RPF, Harry Potter RPF
Genre: M/M, RPF, Songfic, Telepathy, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-13
Updated: 2005-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-24 18:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxWrite/pseuds/MaxWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s only been a few hours since the twins reconciled. Now the sun’s come up, and in the clear light of day, James sees the error of his ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appreciating O

_“First we'd climb a tree  
And maybe then we'd talk  
Or sit silently  
And listen to our thoughts  
With illusions of someday  
Casting a golden light  
No dress rehearsal  
This is our life_

 _You are ahead by a century  
And disappointing you’s getting me down” - _Ahead by a Century _by The Tragically Hip_

 _I’m your protector, I think._

Oliver didn’t know what to say to that.

 _I need to be careful ... with your heart, I mean._

 _What’re you on about?_

James sighed and nestled closer to his twin. The sun was rising outside James’s bedroom window, casting their bodies in a dim, white-gold glow.

 _Everyone likes to think we’re more alike than we are,_ James went on absently. _They have no idea._

 _I agree. Now, what the bloody hell are you talking about?_

James shifted again, lifting his face to look at Oliver, who was gazing down at him. He placed his lips on Oliver’s chest, planted a kiss there. His mouth lingered on that spot, overtop of Oliver’s heart, the tip of his nose grazing the skin. He licked his lips afterward as he rested his head there again, and he tasted the salt of both Oliver’s and his own dried sweat.

 _Can’t you tell?_ asked James.

 _I have an idea. Could use some clarification, though._

“Humph,” James grunted aloud. “This telepathy stuff isn’t as efficient as one might think.”

“Tell me about it,” smirked Oliver.

James stared straight ahead of him, at the full-length mirror on his closet door. The sun was just high enough now that it reached in and gilded the lines of their entangled limbs, coaxing the golds and coppers and auburns out of their mahogany hair.

“We don’t even look alike anymore,” said James.

“Sure we do.”

“Not as much as when we were little.”

“That makes you sad.”

“Kinda, yeah.”

“Me too.”

“We keep insisting to everyone that we hate being twins ...”

“We kind of do, don’t we?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I hate being thought of as one entity. Doesn’t mean I hate being your twin.”

Oliver tightened his grip on James’s torso.

“Are you going to explain what you were babbling about a minute ago?”

“Well ... it’s just ... If people could see inside our heads, just for a moment ... We’re not the same at all,” James said sadly. “We don’t even love the same way.”

“Ah.” Oliver nodded as James’s meaning became clearer. “You mean the fact that I love you more than you love me.”

James winced, but he couldn’t protest.

“Why shouldn’t I say it out loud?” asked Oliver in response to James’s thoughts.

“Why do you never get angry when you’re supposed to?”

“When I’m ‘supposed to’?”

“Yeah, like now.” James sat up and looked his brother in the eye. “You’ve just said it out loud for the first time, the truth we’ve both known for years, and you’re completely calm. Why doesn’t it bother you? Why hasn’t it _ever_ bothered you?”

Oliver shrugged.

“I dunno. It just ... doesn’t.”

He looked almost apologetic. James rolled his eyes.

“I deserved what you did to me,” he said.

“If you’re referring to my going M.I.A. for three years ...”

“You know I am.”

“... well, firstly, don’t ever say that again. Of course you didn’t _deserve_ it. And secondly, I didn’t do it _to_ you. I wasn’t punishing you for anything. And thirdly, you think you deserve to be punished because you don’t love me the same as I love you?”

“You deserve more than I give you.”

“Oh, please ...”

“It’s the truth!” James snapped, sitting up straighter. “I hate this side of you, you know! I hate that you’re not as confident as you should be!”

Oliver smiled warmly at him.

“This has nothing to do with lack of confidence. You give me everything I need, Jamie.”

“Yeah? Then why’d you leave me?”

James spat this at him, shot it like a bullet, and it hit its target perfectly. Guilt stabbed at James’s heart, and it wasn’t only his own he was feeling.

“I-I’m sorry ...”

“No, it’s a fair question.”

“But I already know the answer.”

“Yeah, well, maybe my answer wasn’t good enough. If I were you, I’d want a better explanation. Unfortunately, I haven’t a better one to give you. I got scared. So I left. And that’s that.”

James stared down at his bed sheets and scratched at an imaginary spot.

“I don’t need a better explanation,” he said softly.

“You’re still angry, though.”

“Course I’m still angry. But all the explanations in the world won’t change that.”

“... I know.”

James sighed and laid back down against Oliver, head on his chest. Oliver wrapped his arm around him again and took James’s hand in his free one.

 _You meant,_ thought Oliver, _that because my love for you is stronger than yours for me, you have a greater responsibility to me than I have to you. Right?_

James fidgeted, but said nothing, tried to think about something else.

 

 _“The road ahead is lined with broken dreams  
So walk, walk on by  
And I failed to give you everything you need  
For the fears’ behind your eyes_

 _When I can’t feel you  
I’m not alright  
When I can’t heal you  
I’m not alright” - _Alright _by Pilate_

 

James joined his twin on the balcony, handing him a large, steaming mug.

“Hot chocolate?” asked Oliver. “It’s the middle of July.”

“What, and coffee makes more sense? This has caffeine too. _And_ marshmallows. Bonus,” he added with a grin, giving Oliver the thumbs up.

“You don’t have any coffee, do you?”

“Nope.”

Oliver grinned back.

“You know, I forgot how silly you can be.”

James leaned against the guardrail, his arm pressed against Oliver’s, and he looked over at his brother. The sun was glinting off his hair, which obscured his eyes from James as he stared out at the city below them. Oliver brought the mug up to his lips and took a sip, then licked the sweet, chocolate foam from his mouth.

 _You feel protective of me now,_ thought Oliver, _because you’re worried I’m going to freak out and take off again. I’m something fragile to you now._

 _Should I be worried?_

 _No. I learned my lesson. There’s nothing out there that could ever measure up to this._

 _I felt your fear again. Last night - this morning. Whenever._

 _I’ll always be a little afraid._

James reached over to move hair from Oliver’s eyes.

“That’s so sad,” James whispered, his hand coming to rest on the back of Oliver’s neck.

“Yeah, well ...” Oliver began, but trailed off.

The skin was smooth and warm. It was mostly hidden beneath the rich, brown curtain of hair, but James knew how pale and creamy it was under there, knew it was just begging to be kissed. He moved the hair aside, moved closer to Oliver, positioned himself at Oliver’s back, leaned against him and gently kissed the back of his neck, traveling down along his bare shoulder.

 _I’ll show you how much I love you,_ thought James. _Let me prove you’ve got nothing to be afraid of._

Oliver groaned as James sucked his neck, their fingers interlocking when James’s hand found its way around to Oliver’s bare belly.

 _What, out here?_ thought Oliver.

James stopped kissing him. Oliver looked back to find James staring at him with one raised eyebrow.

“You got a better idea?” asked James.

Oliver smiled at that and looked away.

“Shy all of a sudden?” James took the mug away from him and set it and his own aside. He turned back to find Oliver facing him, with his back to the guardrail, hands behind him, staring down at his feet and looking rather vulnerable. He was wearing only a pair of James’s pyjama pants, no shirt, bare feet. His chocolate strands hung down around his porcelain face, and he was scratching his foot with the big toe of his other foot.

“Interesting,” said James, approaching his brother. “The worshipper isn’t comfortable being worshipped.”

Oliver didn’t look up; he couldn’t argue with that.

James slipped his arms around Oliver’s waist.

“You’re perfectly happy to treat me like some delicate piece of art,” he continued, “but you can’t handle it when you’re treated the same way.”

Oliver placed his hands on James’s upper arms, but still didn’t look at him.

“Does that surprise you?” he asked.

“Hardly. But you’ve gotten worse over the past three years. Didn’t used to be this shy, did you?”

Oliver shrugged, feeling the hot flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.

“Well, with everything that’s happened, everything I did – er, _didn’t_ do, I dunno ... I feel kind of ... unworthy, like ... like I don’t deserve …”

Without warning, James caught Oliver’s mouth with his own and shoved his tongue forward. Oliver grunted upon impact, moaning as his mouth was forced open and invaded roughly, passionately.

 _Unworthy,_ thought James with disgust. _God, you sound worse than I sounded earlier._

 _Well, sibling rivalry, you know. Can't let you be the best at everything, can I?_

James stepped in-between Oliver’s feet and forced him to assume a wider stance, spreading his legs so James could bend his knees and grind against him.

 _Someone might see us,_ thought Oliver.

 _We’re on the twenty-seventh floor. I think we’ll be okay ... You’re resisting me._

 _What?_

James stopped kissing him and looked him in the eye.

“I wonder if any of our fans have picked up on what a neurotic, obsessive-compulsive, avoidant little control-freak you are.”

Oliver smirked.

“You sweet talker, you.”

“Let me take you.”

“Take me where?”

“Funny. You know what I mean.”

Oliver gulped.

“But you never ...”

“I know, but I _want_ to,” James breathed, grinding against him harder, his hands moving about Oliver’s waist and small of the back. “After the way you fucked me last night, I just want to return the favour.”

Oliver knew James was serious, and it frightened him. They almost never switched rolls. Oliver liked being the top. He liked worshipping James’s body. He liked giving James pleasure. He wasn’t comfortable receiving.

 _It’s my turn now,_ thought James. _It’s my turn to worship you and give you pleasure and make you whimper and squirm and scream._

Oliver’s wide eyes locked with James’s. Sunlight illuminated James’s irises, making them look three-dimensional and prismatic, making them glow vibrant sienna around the pupils and calm sea green round the outer edges. Oliver's eyes darted down to James’s lips, which were curling up into a mischievous smile. James wanted this. Badly. Oliver could sense it.

James went for his neck again and slid his hand down into the pyjama pants he’d lent Oliver. As he grasped the hard, warm shaft inside the flannel, Oliver went a little weak in the knees. James loved the little moans coming from his twin, feeling their vibrations in his lips as he pressed them against Oliver’s throat. Something that could only be described as euphoria pulsed through James as Oliver wrapped his arms around his neck and pressed against him, his body seeming to beg for James’s attention.

James pulled away and took a step back. Staring directly into Oliver’s eyes, he ordered softly, “Pull your pants down.”

The flush in Oliver’s cheeks grew deeper and he looked away again.

“What? Here?” he asked.

 _Pull your pants down, O._

O. James hadn’t called him that in years, and Oliver was hit by a wave of nostalgia. He and James were six, sharing an ice cream cone after Oliver had dropped his; he and James were eight, taking their very last bath together, James reaching out to wipe suds from Oliver’s nose; he and James were ten, and Oliver was voluntarily taking the blame for something James had done, knowing their parents would go easier on him; he and James were twelve, kissing shyly and touching tentatively in the middle of the night, in their bedroom, on their birthday; he and James were fourteen, pretending to be each other on the set of the first _Harry Potter,_ unaware they’d have to re-shoot the scenes when their prank was discovered; he was seventeen, while James was a mere thirteen minutes from turning seventeen, and they were arguing, and James was calling him ‘Big O’, and Oliver was snapping at him for it, and they were kissing again for the first time in years, and James was naked before him, beneath him, and James wanted so desperately to scream, but couldn’t, for fear of waking their parents, and he was gasping, “Oh ... Oh ...”, and for a moment, Oliver was certain those were more than just breathy moans, was certain that James was calling his name.

And it was the morning after, and Oliver was sneaking back to his own bedroom, turning back to stare at James as he closed James’s bedroom door, and James was sitting in the center of his bed, cross-legged, smiling sweetly, his pink lips even darker pink and more pouty than normal from the rough kisses and nibbles, and he was waving goodbye and thinking, _Happy Birthday, O,_ and Oliver’s heart leapt a little at the sound of the nickname - when only hours before, it had annoyed him - because there was no one else on earth who called him that, no one else would ever be allowed to.

It had been that morning, their seventeenth birthday, the first time they’d made love, that they’d realized they’d been falling in love for ages, or perhaps had been in love forever. It had been that morning that Oliver had decided he didn’t hate the nickname so much after all, because it was James’s special name for him, something only his Jamie could call him, and it still made his heart leap a little.

James smiled.

“Well, that was a fun little trip in the time machine,” he said.

Oliver looked down at his bare feet. James stepped closer again, took Oliver’s chin between his fingers and tilted his face back up. No words were spoken as they stared into each other’s eyes. No words passed between their minds either, as Oliver gave in and reached for his waistband.

James stepped back a bit more and watched Oliver’s fingers slowly untie the drawstring, loosen the waistband and push it down until gravity took over, making the flannel pants drop to the ground. Oliver’s eyes stayed on James’s face the whole time.

 _I’m naked on the balcony,_ Oliver thought in disbelief. James giggled at that.

 _Relax. Long as I stay out of sight, the neighbours’ll just think it’s me. "Oh, look that crazy Phelps kid is naked again."_

 _If I couldn’t tell you were kidding, I’d seriously wonder, you know._

James’s eyes traveled down Oliver’s body, drinking in everything, while Oliver rolled his eyes and fidgeted.

 _You already know what I look like._

“Shh,” demanded James. He stepped further back to get a better look. It’d been years since they’d been anything close to truly identical, and it wasn’t just their faces anymore. While both were still on the skinny side, James had gained a slightly more muscular build to appease his inner critic. Now, staring at Oliver, James realized just how much he loved on his brother what he’d hated on himself. To him, at that moment, Oliver’s long, thin frame looked angelic and innocent and enticingly vulnerable in the clear morning light. James wouldn’t have changed a thing about him.

 _I want to watch you touch yourself,_ thought James. Before Oliver could protest, James walked away from him, over to a long, cushioned deck chair.

“Come. Lie down,” he ordered, and to his surprise, Oliver obeyed without a word. He stepped out of the flannel pants, walked over and lay on the chair. He put his arms on the armrests, wiggled his toes nervously, and looked up at James from underneath his lashes, awaiting further instruction.

“I think I like you like this,” said James, smiling. He pulled a regular sized chair over, placed it in front of Oliver, facing him, and took a seat.

“Now, put your head back, let your legs fall open, and touch yourself for me.”

Again, Oliver obeyed. He hesitated for only a second, then let his head fall against the backrest, let his legs slide off the chair till his feet touched ground, fidgeted a little, and finally let his hand wander up his thigh toward his crotch.

His narrow little wrist bent gracefully as his long fingers sought out his testicles and cupped them. He massaged them for a moment before venturing further upward to the pulsing, pink shaft awaiting his touch. He ran his fingertips up along it, onto the head, where he made tiny circles with his index finger just at the slit, spreading the moisture there all around.

James’s eyes darted up to Oliver’s face. It was tilted upward and his eyes were closed. His mouth was open the tiniest bit.

 _You’re gorgeous, you know,_ thought James, and the slightest hint of a smile played with Oliver’s lips.

 _You’re the gorgeous one, Jamie._

 _Oh, for the love of – We’re_ both _gorgeous, okay? Sheesh._

Oliver’s face broke into a full smile then. His eyes remained closed.

 _I love the way your eyes crinkle when you smile._

 _Yeah? I’ve always hated that. Think it’s ugly._

 _I know. And you’re wrong. You’re perfect._

Oliver’s smile softened then. He was touched, James could tell.

 _Don’t think,_ said James. _Don’t get distracted, just ... just continue._

Oliver licked his hand, then reached back down and gripped himself. His stroking began slowly, his index finger gliding up and over the head, then back again. His legs fell open further as the sensation grew stronger. His chest was rising and falling more quickly. His face was relaxed, his mouth hanging open a little more than before. He emitted a small moan, turning his face away from James. He moaned again, and arched his back away from the backrest.

James’s hand slid over the hardness inside his boxers as he watched. Oliver’s skin was practically glowing in the sunlight, tempting James to reach out and touch. Finally, he couldn’t resist any longer. He bolted from his chair and sat where Oliver’s legs would be if they hadn’t been spread wide. He brought his mouth down to Oliver’s chest and began to kiss the smooth, seemingly virginal skin. He kissed his way down to the belly, and then down a little further, finally burying his nose and mouth in Oliver’s chestnut pubic hair. He nudged Oliver’s hand out of the way, and took the cock in his mouth, letting the head press against the back of his throat. He closed his mouth around his brother’s length and gently sucked, letting Oliver’s thoughts stream through his mind, intersecting with his own.

Oliver’s eyes were on him now, he could feel them. Oliver was watching him, thinking how beautiful he was and feeling oddly touched by this display of affection. James asked him why.

 _You’re never this – I dunno ... attentive,_ was Oliver’s reply.

James’s eyebrows knitted together as his head bobbed up and down. He thought back, scanned his brain for all the times he’d been as tender and attentive as he was being right then. He knew those times existed, he was sure of it.

He came up empty.

 _It’s not a big deal,_ Oliver assured him.

But James was still hit by a horrible pang of guilt. How, in all those years, could he have forgotten to appreciate his love?

 _You didn’t forget. You just show it differently._

 _And less often._ Far _less often. My god._

He stopped moving, simply held Oliver in his mouth, taking hold of the base with one hand.

 _What’re you doing?_ asked Oliver.

 _Appreciating you._

James closed his eyes and savoured the warm hardness in his mouth, the way it felt on his tongue, suckling, forcing more pre-cum to the surface so he could taste his twin’s bitter-sweetness again. It felt so natural, being with Oliver this way, so right, as it always did, so sweet and hot, and pure and wrong, and innocent and filthy, all at once. It was something nearing sensory overload, something nearing bliss.

It took a while for James to realize that he, himself, was groaning, causing pleasurable vibrations around Oliver’s cock. But far from making Oliver crazy with anticipation, he seemed to be lost in the sweetness of the moment as well. He stroked James’s hair and gazed down at him, watched and felt James enjoying his cock. And he smiled.

James removed his brother from his mouth and looked up at him. Oliver cocked his head to one side as he stared back, still smiling. His hand slid down to James’s cheek, his thumb gliding back and forth over the rose-pale skin.

Oliver loved him more than he loved Oliver back? How could that be? Looking up at him then, feeling Oliver’s hand on his cheek, feeling all of Oliver’s inherent kindness and gentleness, James suddenly welled up with love. He felt his chest might burst from it. And he was determined to prove that he felt as much, if not more.

“You’re going to come for me,” he said. “And then, I’m going to fuck you senseless.”

The words sent a shiver up Oliver’s spine. His eyes followed James as he got up and went around to the back of the chair.

“What’re you - _Gah!”_ Oliver yelped as the backrest dropped out from behind him. He promptly found it again, however, when his torso landed on it; James had lowered it, forcing Oliver to lie flat.

James came back around and lay on the chair between Oliver’s legs again. He popped his brother’s cock back into his mouth, and sucked as though his life depended on it.

Oliver’s reaction was immediate. His head had been raised so he could watch James, but he let it fall back. James stared straight ahead at the glass doors that lead back into the apartment, for in them he could see their reflection, could see himself eagerly sucking away, could see Oliver from a different, equally beautiful angle, squirming with pleasure. Soon, Oliver’s face took on a pained expression, as though James was hurting him, but he clearly wasn’t in any pain.

The inviting expanse of white, freckled skin before James, gently heaving, quietly undulating, spoke volumes without making a sound. Every arch of the back, every movement of the hips, every pass the nails made across their owner’s skin told James he was doing something very right. Being inside each other’s heads their entire lives had afforded them this perfect physical connection. Oliver was right; nothing in the world could be better than this, than each other. No one could ever know either of them this completely.

Oliver didn’t stay quiet for long. James slid a saliva-slicked finger underneath and into him, located that special spot and stroked it. Oliver became quite vocal in response. His face disappeared as he turned it up and away from James. His Adam’s Apple caught James’s eye as it bobbed beneath the skin with every delicious sound that escaped Oliver’s throat.

 _You want to fuck my mouth,_ thought James. _I can tell. What’s stopping you?_

Oliver hesitated; he’d never been one to force things down anyone’s throat, even when they asked for it.

 _Grab my hair, O. You know you want to._

Something about that nickname; Oliver could deny James nothing.

He didn’t look down as he reached out and slid his fingers into James’s hair. He held onto James’s skull as he made the first tentative thrust upward.

 _Faster. Go on,_ James encouraged him. He obliged, and was soon thrusting rhythmically in and out of his brother’s mouth. James could pinpoint the exact moment when Oliver stopped feeling self-conscious and afraid of hurting him, and began to lose himself in his own pleasure. As that pleasure grew, Oliver’s hands clenched into fists that gripped James’s hair, holding his head in place.

And James loved it; his brother’s hands forcing him to stay put, his brother’s cock hitting the back of his throat again and again, the sound of his brother’s voice groaning in helpless ecstasy into the morning air, not caring who might be around to hear, his brother, so near his orgasm that his mind seemed to be somewhere else entirely, still connected to James’s, but far away.

James felt it before Oliver thought it; the sharp spike of adrenaline in his twin that signaled his climax.

 _I’m coming, baby,_ thought Oliver, then repeated out loud, “I’m coming. I’m cuh ... Jamie ... Jamie!”

Hot, salty wonderful hit the back of James’s throat. He held his breath, held it until every last drop was in his mouth. Then he slowly slid Oliver out of his mouth and sat up.

 _You haven’t swallowed yet?_ asked Oliver.

 _Nope. Just one more moment ..._

James held his brother’s offering for a few seconds more, swished it around a bit, then swallowed, tilting his head back all the way as he did so.

“Mmm,” he moaned as the liquid slid down his throat.

 _I can’t possibly taste that good._

James looked down at him, gave him a lopsided grin.

 _Oh, I beg to differ._

 _Was that “Oh” or “O”?_

 _Shut up, you._

They both giggled, then Oliver let his head fall back again, still panting from coming so hard.

“Don’t move,” said James. “Be right back.”

“Where’re you – Oh. Right. ‘Cause you’re gonna ...”

“That’s right. I don’t keep that stuff out here. But if you’re back in my life, maybe I should start stashing it all over the flat.”

James darted away, into the apartment, up the stairs to his bedroom to fetch the lubricant. When he returned, Oliver was still lying on the deck chair, legs still spread, one hand on his chest, the other hanging over the edge of the chair, grazing the ground. His prick, soft and pink, lay to one side of the dark, pubic thatch that contrasted so nicely against his skin. James thought he’d never seen anything so lovely in his life.

James wanted to devour him.

Oliver opened his eyes and returned the lopsided grin James had given him earlier. There was a coyness about his smile, something playful in his eyes. James didn’t often see him this way; submissive, so willing to be taken.

 _You want to get fucked as much as I want to fuck you now, don’t you?_

Oliver nodded. His eyes followed James as he approached, watched James slip out of his boxers and heave them a little too far back, sending them flying over the guardrail.

“Oops,” said James. “Uh ... I meant to do that.”

“Sure, sure,” said Oliver. “Lucky no one’ll know whose they are, or we’d probably find them on eBay tomorrow. Unless, of course, you still have mum sew your name into all your knickers.”

James smirked. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”

He stood before Oliver, his cock sticking out from under his t-shirt. Oliver watched him slick lubricant down his shaft. The little bottle was chucked aside, and James descended on his twin, emitting a low, lascivious growl.

James could feel Oliver’s nervousness, could sense it mingling with the anticipation and need. He slid two slippery fingers into Oliver, moved them around as he leaned over and kissed him passionately, hoping he could relax his twin before entering him.

 _Up against the guardrail._

This request surprised James; Oliver was hardly an exhibitionist. James thought Oliver would want to stay as far away from the guardrail as possible while they fucked. He hadn’t even wanted to do this outside in the first place.

“But if a neighbour hears us ...” James began.

“S’matter? Chicken?”

James raised his eyebrows and smiled.

“I am _not ... chicken.”_

Oliver finally sat up, and with his nose barely half an inch from James’s, he whispered, “Then what’re you waiting for?”

James didn’t need to be asked twice. He stood and yanked Oliver up by the arm, swinging him over to the guardrail. Oliver gently hit the rail with a small grunt, gripped it with both hands and assumed an appropriate position; feet wide apart, backside protruding. He wiggled it at James and glanced back at him. James approached and touched the head of his cock to Oliver’s opening. He pushed in just a little. Oliver tensed up, but didn’t protest. James pushed in a bit more, until the head disappeared entirely. Oliver groaned, trying to will himself to accommodate his brother. James reached up and stroked his back and didn’t move again until Oliver gave him the go-ahead.

 _Okay,_ thought Oliver, tilting his face up toward the sky. _Go._

James’s hand moved up Oliver’s back to his shoulder, to his neck, and around to the front, where it gripped his throat ever so slightly. James didn’t move right away. For several seconds, he stood there, caressing Oliver’s throat with his fingertips, his lips pressed to Oliver’s shoulder. They breathed in unison. Everything seemed still, except the gentle breeze the played lightly in their hair. Somewhere below them, a car honked, while off to their right, James’s neighbour opened her balcony door. They could hear her step outside and close the screen door behind her, heard her take a slurping sip of what was probably her morning coffee or tea. And they remained still. Completely. Barely breathing.

But the stillness was soon broken, the silence, assaulted by Oliver’s scream. James chose that moment to plunge into him and begin fucking him with rough abandon. Oliver gripped the guardrail tighter, and they both wondered if anyone below them could hear his cries.

 _She can hear you, you know,_ thought James. _She can hear you screaming like a bitch._

James grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, amazed at how much Oliver was enjoying this. For the first time ever that James could remember, Oliver was turned on by taking this risk, by fucking outside, knowing someone was listening.

“I don’t care,” Oliver gasped out loud. “Make me scream, Jamie.”

James was more than happy to oblige. He clamped one hand over Oliver’s mouth, while the other pressed against Oliver’s stomach, and he pounded Oliver as hard as he could. Oliver screamed into his palm and clawed at his hand, but James held on tight. He pulled Oliver back until their heads were side-by-side, until his stomach was right up against Oliver’s back, and he fucked Oliver roughly, gave him everything he had, and soon, the shock and pain dissolved, and all that was left was pleasure, and James let go of his mouth, and his hands glided lovingly up and down Oliver’s torso, finally coming to rest on his hips, where Oliver’s hands eventually joined his, laying themselves overtop of his, their fingers interlocking, and Oliver brought their four linked hands up to his chest and held them there, over his heart, as he closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against James’s, and he could hear himself moaning, but his own voice sounded distant to him, but it didn’t matter, because his Jamie was inside him and everything was okay, and this time Oliver was certain that James was calling to him with every, single, breathy ‘O’ that slid passed his lips.

And it didn’t matter that their moaning and declarations of love and need and their profanity and the slapping of their skin were all being overheard. Nothing mattered. Nothing but this.

“O,” James breathed. “O ... you’re going to come again, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” whispered Oliver.

“Will you come with me, baby?”

“Fuck, yes!”

Their words dissolved into meaningless sounds. James took Oliver by his jaw and turned his face toward his own for a hot, wet kiss that muffled both their cries as they both came in perfect unison.

The world seemed to stop. Oliver’s mouth was open and accepting, and James swallowed every sound he made as he filled Oliver with his seed. Oliver broke the kiss, arched backward, and moaned at the apartment above them, his and James’s hands still linked at his heart.

Oliver collapsed against the guard rail. James leaned against him, his cheek pressed to Oliver’s sweaty back, both panting heavily. They each held their breath as the neighbour’s screen door slid open, then closed again. They heard the glass doors closing as well and heard the click of the lock.

 _D’you know her?_ asked Oliver.

 _Yeah, kinda._

 _Should we be worried that she heard?_

 _I don’t know ... We came in perfect sync._

 _Yeah. That’s never happened before. What d’you supposed it means?_

Oliver felt James smiling against his back. He straightened up and turned to him.

“You think it ...” Oliver began, but James cut him off.

“Shh. Later.”

James pulled him back over to the long deck chair. They lay down together, held each other and kissed, just kissed, passionately, softly, intensely, losing track of time and not caring.

 

James stepped out of the lift on his floor, flipping through the post. He wasn’t watching where he was going, and he almost ran into someone. He looked up to find a pretty black girl, in her late twenties, with the long, curly hair standing before him trying to get on the lift. His cheeks flared pink with embarrassment.

“Hey, Nat,” he said nervously. “Um ...”

She smiled and looked away.

“It’s okay, James.”

“Er ... what?”

“I won’t tell.”

He blinked at the top of her head, unsure what to say. She finally looked back up at him, and something in her eyes told him she was being sincere, but he still felt the need to explain, to justify.

“Natalie, I ...”

“Shh,” she said. “It’s _okay,_ James. I – won’t – tell.”

And at that, she slipped passed him, into the lift. She turned and smiled at him again, and as the door began to slide closed, she added, “Just as long as you let me listen in again.”

“What? Nata ...”

But the door closed, cutting him off.

He tossed his letters onto a small table by his front door, slipped out of his shoes and padded down the hall, into the living room and up his small, spiral staircase, pulling his t-shirt off and unbuttoning his jeans as he went. He hopped out of them upon entering his bedroom and slipped back into bed with his brother. Oliver moved closer, and James took him in his arms.

“I love you as much as you love me,” said James.

“I know.”

“You felt it too, didn’t you? Earlier, after we’d finished?”

“Course. You’re like the bloody Grinch.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your heart grew three sizes today, Jamie.”

James chuckled at that.

“And you think _I’m_ silly?”

“How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Start loving me so much more today?”

James swallowed hard. Something about that statement caused an unpleasant lump to rise in his throat.

“It was there all along, I think, inside me somewhere. It was just ... hidden. Or something.”

“How come?”

“Dunno. Pride? Maybe part of me ...” James took a deep breath, “... thought I was better than you, or something stupid like that.”

“You did,” said Oliver matter-of-factly.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not."

"It's just sibling rivalry, James."

"That's no excuse! But it’s over now. I learned my lesson too. You were right to leave me.”

“Oh, don’t start that again ...”

“It’s true. It was my wake-up call. I love you, O. Please don’t go away again.”

Oliver snuggled against him as tightly as he could.

“I love you too, Jamie. And I won’t. We’re even now, yeah? Our responsibility to each other is equal, right?”

“Course.”

“Jamie?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you start calling me ‘O’ again?”

James shrugged.

“Because you wanted me to.”

“... Oh.”

They grinned at each other, and James watched Oliver’s eyelids slide shut.

Oliver finally fell asleep, and James was about to drift off himself. He had gotten maybe four hours of sleep before Oliver had come knocking on his door early that morning. And Oliver hadn’t gotten any sleep at all, having shown up on James’s doorstep fresh from a date.

 _Poor Jennifer,_ thought James, smirking. _She has no idea._

James watched him as he slept. He brought a hand up and ran a fingertip down Oliver’s nose, over the slight bump there, causing him to crinkle it up a little in his sleep. James smiled. He put his hand back under the covers, found Oliver’s and held it tight.

“But I’m still your protector,” whispered James as his eyes began to flutter shut.

And Oliver’s angelic face was growing fuzzy, fading out, and was soon gone, as James slipped away into sleep too, clutching his twin’s hand.

 

 _“I’m awake, you’re still sleeping  
The sun will rise like yesterday  
Everything that we are now  
Is everything we can’t let go  
Or it’s gone forever  
Far away_

 _I hope tomorrow is like today_

 _Don’t you go away tomorrow  
I don’t think I could handle that  
You’re probably dreaming that you’re flying on  
Then you start to fall, but then you rise  
And shine forever  
Don’t go away_

 _I hope tomorrow is like today” –_ I Hope Tomorrow is Like Today _by Guster_


End file.
